Rip Tear Kill
by iamold
Summary: An eternity later, Tom opened his eyes, flat on his back on cold stone. He breathed. Calm, empty. Nothing, interspersed with flashes of anger and fear. Was he himself again? Was he… Tom? General one-shot, in which Tom Riddle finds the Chamber of Secrets and is not impressed.


**Rip. Tear. Kill.**

* * *

After a long, unpleasant trip down a pipe fifth-year Hogwarts student, Tom Riddle, landed lightly on his feet. (Lightly, of course, because he was a _wizard_ and a proper wizard could fall gracefully from any height.) Looking eagerly into the darkness ahead, he raised his wand and cast a quick and silent _lumos_ to illuminate the underground tunnel.

Not even the grime on his usually immaculate robes could wipe the grin off Tom's face in that moment. For he was certain he had finally found it. _It._

The Chamber of Secrets.

In all of his explorations of the castle over the years, this was the first secret entrance he'd found that had required speaking parseltongue to gain access. And what better way to ensure that Salazar Slytherin's secrets could only be found by his _true_ heir? (That true heir being himself, naturally. Tom just knew he was more than some insignificant, unwanted boy of muddy or mixed blood. He was powerful. A parseltongue. A _Slytherin_.)

What sort of secrets might be found in a place named for them, left by one of the greatest and most powerful wizards in history? Tom was eager to find out.

In long strides, without any hesitation or fear, he delved deeper into the tunnel. An ignoble sort of passageway, but he supposed that secrecy hadn't allowed for much pomp and circumstance in its construction.

Several twists and turns later, he came upon a carving of two great serpents with glittering, emerald eyes. Any lingering doubt left him in that moment.

" _Open_ ," he hissed, and waited as the wall parted to grant him entry.

His first impression of the Chamber within was favorable. Large, towering pillars lined the sides of the enormous cavern and all the fine hairs on his skin rose in awe as he passed them. When he reached the statue at the opposite end, the light from his wand barely reached the eyes of Slytherin's likeness. He felt as though he were a supplicant come to worship at the feet of a god.

For many long seconds he stood there and stared in silence. He felt as close to humble as he ever had in his 16 years of life.

He was the first to stand in that spot in a thousand years. Salazar Slytherin had left this for _Tom_.

Gradually the feeling faded and he continued to explore, looking forward to discovering all the Chamber had to offer.

…He was soon very, very disappointed.

Quickening his pace as he explored the perimeter, Tom fed more power into his wand. Its light brightened and the chamber lit up until the columns cast long shadows on the bare walls.

He searched, and there was _nothing_. Just stone walls, stone floors, stone columns, and a big, stupid, stone statue.

He paced in front of said stupid statue, throwing it the occasional glare in frustration.

He must have missed something. At the very least there was rumored to be some monster of a pet left in the Chamber (although how it would have survived was beyond his reasoning). It was in there somewhere. Slytherin would not have created a giant, underground room just to store a gaudy statue.

There were secrets left to be uncovered, and Tom would prove himself worthy of knowing them.

Taking a few deep breaths to calm himself, Tom again circled the Chamber. This time at a much slower pace, examining each facet of stone for another carving, a glimmer of magic. He had become quite accomplished at uncovering the secrets of Hogwarts in his years of searching for this Chamber. Every other moment he would cast revealing spells or whisper " _open_ " in parseltongue.

For two hours, there was nothing. Not a single hint of a hidden entrance, or even a cavity in the rock. Trying to ignore his building irritation, he nonetheless went about his self-given task with devoted thoroughness.

Until he stood before the feet of Slytherin's statue, back where he'd started. He had circled the entirety of the enormous chamber, and he had found _nothing_.

"Why!?" he shouted up at the effigy, fed up. Done with the whole farce. "Why would you create this big, empty room and leave nothing inside it? Build up a whole mythos, so that fools like myself would search for a thousand years and on the off-chance of discovery, discover nothing but that your ego was too large to be contained in a portrait or a book like any other, sane person?"

As it was made of non-enchanted stone, the statue did not respond. But Tom could swear those blank eyes were laughing at him.

"Was it a _joke_?" he continued, aware but not particularly caring that he was acting more and more unhinged. He felt he deserved a little release of temper after spending 3 years of devoted searching only to find a big, ugly statue. "Are you laughing in your grave right now? That you pulled one over on the whole wizarding world? What great fun, to trick people into thinking you'd left behind a great legacy and then when your great-great-however-many-greats-grandson comes along to claim it—there's nothing.

"Serves me right, I suppose, for thinking I might _deserve_ something of a heritage. Some link to the past that proves I'm part of something greater or some such nonsense."

Slytherin's statue was silent.

"Well?" Tom sneered. "Speak up! What do you have to say for yourself? After a thousand years you finally have a captive audience. Justify it! Speak to me, Slytherin, _greatest_ of the Hogwarts four!"

Abruptly there was a rumble and a grinding of stone as _something finally happened_. Eyes wide in shock, Tom watched as the statue's mouth pried open to reveal a cavern in its gaping maw.

A few moments passed as he waited to see if anything else would happen. When nothing did, he released a shaky breath.

"Yes, well…" he began awkwardly. "Apologies for doubting you, I suppose. And… shouting, and all that."

A few waves of his wand and a conjured ladder was in place. Tom stepped up and with another flick he was quickly rising toward the mouth. His face was warm with a rare touch of embarrassment at his outburst, but on the bright side it had resulted in him uncovering a secret. And all's well that ends well, after all.

With more hesitation than he had initially begun the journey, Tom entered the newly revealed chamber.

…and nearly dropped his wand in shock, emitting an unmanly squeak as well. His heart lurched as he shut his eyes and held his breath.

Basilisk. _Basilisk_! He was standing mere feet from a _basilisk_.

Dimly lit it might be, but there was no mistaking that fifty feet of coiled green scales as anything but a basilisk.

It made sense, of course. Slytherin decides to put monster in the Chamber, what kind of monster should he choose? Slytherin is parseltongue. Basilisk is snake. Ergo, basilisk is a good choice.

But faced with the reality of the massive serpent and its assorted possibilities—crushed by its weight, poisoned by its venom, struck dead by its gaze—he couldn't help but wonder… why on earth had Salazar Slytherin decided it would be a good idea to house a basilisk beneath a castle full of children!? Even to be rid of the mudbloods, a basilisk was far too dangerous to be let loose among the collective future of Wizarding Britain.

When Tom wasn't killed immediately, he decided to hope he might actually make it out of the chamber alive. After a minute of waiting, expecting to die horribly and painfully (and thankfully not), he even allowed himself to cautiously open his eyes.

The basilisk did not stir.

Tom collapsed into a sitting position, exhaling a relieved sigh.

It seemed that it was in some sort of (hopefully magical) slumber or stasis. That was good and reasonable. A _sleeping_ basilisk was marginally less frightening and dangerous than a waking basilisk.

Once the rush of adrenaline had passed and his heart rate returned to a resting tempo, Tom was free to consider his options calmly.

Eyeing the space around him (and using a few careful spells as well), he concluded that the giant serpent wasn't guarding anything, and was very likely the sole object of interest in the entire Chamber of Secrets.

How disappointing.

Which left him the options of leaving now without any new knowledge or power or anything to show for his triumph, or... what? What to do?

His lips twitched in remembrance of the school motto, " _draco dormiens nunquam titillandus_ ". Never tickle a sleeping dragon. Did the same hold true of a sleeping basilisk?

It seemed a waste to simply leave it there, however. Another thousand years until some descendent stumbled upon it, faced with a similar disappointment and decision. No. _He_ would not be so cruel to his line. The foolishness would end.

But how?

Basilisks had a number of useful parts used in obscure rituals and potions, and from one of such size and quality Tom estimated he could collect a very handy sum of Galleons. And yet to simply kill it in that moment seemed…. wasteful. A powerful magical creature placed there deliberately by one Hogwart's great founders, a beast that once knew, perhaps had even _spoken_ to Salazar Slytherin himself-!

Hmm.

Tom came to a hasty but stubborn decision. Before killing the basilisk for parts, Tom would speak to the serpent, and perhaps it could to shed some light on Slytherin's actions or character. Perhaps it could even share some knowledge of greater magic.

With a determined nod, Tom stood and raised his wand. After taking the time to place a number of strong, magical restraints (he was not completely without sense, after all) and conjuring the beast a blindfold, he went about the task of waking a sleeping basilisk.

He thoroughly ignored the small niggling in his mind that suggested what he was doing was extremely foolish.

It took some time to find the correct spell that would counter Slytherin's work, but Tom very quickly realized his success when one moment he had flicked his wand and the next-

Faced with a writhing mass of thrashing, deadly snake flesh, Tom let out a (very dignified) yelp and stumbled back to the edge of the cavern. The restraints were working, to an extent, as the beast could not uncoil itself. But it could move around its weight enough to crash into the walls and hop along the floor.

The stone around him shook with each slam of the basilisk's body, and Tom anxiously wondered if the ceiling might collapse on top of him. Hoping to avoid such a fate (and the nearing coils of scale) he stepped back into thin air and used magic to control his fall, landing lightly and hastily putting some distance between himself and Slytherin's pet.

Feeling mildly safer but still uneasy, Tom watched as the basilisk managed to throw itself from the statue's mouth. The whole chamber quivered as it landed with a heavy _smack_ on the ground below. Its eyes were safely hidden from Tom's sight, but the beast's mouth was open wide, fangs dripping venom. The basilisk kept up a constant stream of hissing, loud and indistinct in meaning despite Tom's gift as a parselmouth. The snake equivalent of a scream.

After a full minute of this, Tom had settled enough to feel annoyed at the beast's hysterics.

" _Serpent, calm yourself!_ " he demanded in parseltongue, only to be ignored completely. Still thrashing, still screaming. " _As Syltherin's heir I demand you be still!_ " No response.

Five minutes later and many variations of " _Quiet!_ " and " _Stop!_ " Tom was fully fed up. With some hesitancy he had even attempted the illegal curse, Imperio. When even that failed, he was ready to give up. He had already raised his wand to end the basilisk's life when at the last moment another option occurred to him.

Legilimency. A skill he'd been working on, and was (naturally) gifted at. He'd never attempted to use it on a beast, but had no reason to expect it couldn't work. And he'd even recently managed to plant an image in another's mind. Perhaps the basilisk could be manipulated…

With a nod, Tom gripped his wand tighter and focused his gaze on the conjured blindfold that hid the monster's deadly eyes.

" _Legilimens_ ," he whispered.

At first it was very difficult, like wading through sludge, to get near the serpent's mind. And then abruptly, all resistance was gone and Tom's own consciousness fell—no, was _pulled_ into the basilisk's own.

All sense of self left him. All sense of linear time, all rationality gone. Just a powerful, oppressive _darkness_ and _rage_. So much anger and hate. Betrayal.

MASTER! _Must rip_. MASTER. _Tear._ WHY? _Kill. I will kill and rip and KILL_. COME BACK!

Nothing but darkness. Endless. No sensation but dark and trapped. No emotion but fear and suffering and helplessness and hate. Was this death? Was this the hell he'd been told to expect?

 _Rip, rip, tear._ MASTER, PLEASE! _Tear, kill. KILL-!_

…

An eternity later, Tom opened his eyes, flat on his back on cold stone. He breathed. Calm, empty. Nothing, interspersed with flashes of anger and fear. Was he himself again? Was he… Tom? A sudden choking of hatred and then nothing again.

 _RIP…_

Slowly, ever so slowly with all of his energy and magic seemingly drained, Tom sat up. He looked at the great serpent before him. It was finally still and quiet, tongue darting out and in, tasting the air.

"… _Master?_ " the beast hissed.

After a moment, Tom responded, " _I am here_."

The fingers of his left hand twitched, and Tom clenched them into a fist to keep them still, staring down at them with a detached curiosity. In the next moment, he struggled to contain a gasp of terror, heart racing. And then the feeling was gone, as quickly as it came.

He should be more concerned, he thought, before that thought too was swept away as if by wind. He was left empty.

" _You have returned_!" The basilisk attempted to lift its head but was still bound by Tom's restraints. "… _why-? It has been so long, and you said_ …"

" _What did I say_?"

" _You said to be patient. Oh I tried, but it was so dark. So long_."

Some part of Tom felt he ought to be more interested in what the serpent was saying. But the rest of him just felt… scattered. Jagged. Broken.

 _TEAR…_

"… _Will you stay now, Master? I have waited. Not patiently, but I have waited. And you have returned._ "

" _Yes. I will... stay_ ," he agreed. " _I will be in the castle._ "

Tom stood on wobbling knees. Was he going to do something? He couldn't recall. His face twisted in a grimace of anger and then relaxed to stare vacantly.

He was… wrong, somehow. Off. He needed to collect himself. Yes. He had classes. He was a student. With peers and professors who would meddle if he acted oddly. Not himself.

Deep breaths. Another stab of senseless fear and rage. He shook it off.

" _There are things I must do_ ," he said, almost to himself. He needed to get back to his dorm, for example. With a negligent wave, the serpent's restraints were lifted, though the blindfold was still intact. " _I won't be so long, this time_."

The basilisk writhed, sliding along the floor with a pleased hiss and a grinding of scale on stone.

" _Please return soon, Master. I don't like to wait_ ," the beast said.

"Hmm."

Tom stumbled toward the chamber entrance, suppressing the odd twitch or flood of anger. He shivered and attempted to shove it all away. Breathe.

 _KILL…_

He would come back when he had recovered and then… and… the thought escaped him.

RIP… TEAR… KILL…

Tom Riddle shivered, and in a moment of clarity felt regret and dread. And if he didn't recover-? What then?

...

 **FIN.**

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 **A/N:** Long time no see! And writing a different character than usual. Hope you enjoyed!


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